


Errands For Gods

by Dratz



Series: Re:Connected [1]
Category: Zoids
Genre: Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dratz/pseuds/Dratz
Summary: A visit to the Seismosaurus' underground refuge reveals to Burton that the Zoid is well on the road to recovery, but will need to be relocated to avoid detection.





	Errands For Gods

**Author's Note:**

> _Omega_ is an alternate spelling of _O.M.E.G.A._ (short for Operative Mobile Elite Governing Apparatus).

He could find his way through the tunnels now by memory, fingertips facing the walls of earth and rock that sloped downward at an awkward angle. Shallow breathing. Sudden bits of soil that had banished themselves and sought refuge over his shoulders, in the threads of his clothing and hair. Weaving, whispering, waiting for the right moment to stop, to turn, blind in the dark and recollecting the map that he’d made in his mind, for the maze was vast, and vacant. He’d a flashlight in his coat pocket which was only weighing him down–and little use for it. Everything would look the same, black and similar with long, arching shadows and uneven shapes of stone. For a long while still he went counting his steps, clay and dust dispersed through the air, the smell very strong, almost smothering, and deep as the caverns stretching dormant somewhere beneath the perimeter of Emerald Harbor.

And already, he could hear the churning of nearby machinery… broken joints and dented cogs, the cracking of something solid through an uneven motion. It was cold and damp, his palms pressed gently to the walls that dipped in and out and guided him toward what must have been the center of the world–but it wasn’t much farther… Onward, inching slowly, a monitored pace and a quiet breath of air. Nothing, no signs of life, no movement that the eye could catch, until he felt at last the final crack of the cave’s veiled wall that meant he had come to the fork bordering the largest of the underground hollows.

Everything was abandoned–these were the workings of old corridors and highways meant to connect from back at Blue City. Several tunnels had fallen in, all of them unpaved, unfinished. The entrances had been sealed shut, the project filed away long before the coup, because funds had been low, and the politicians occupied with other things like making money and namedropping and watching the stocks overseas rise and fall. Most people didn’t even know the pathways existed; they were never a part of any map, and now in very poor condition. Little to locate but countless dead-ends and aisles that seemed to go in circles, five-foot drops across the floor, many stretches where the ceiling lacked support. And completely black–blackness without boundary, filing every space, between his lips, the path behind, above, beside him.

It was peaceful; it was perilous. But it was, at best, a hiding place, locked forever in the likeness of the night. He checked the bend with both hands now, no mistake, this was precisely where he needed to be, about a mile or so in and surrounded on all sides by the infinite, inescapable darkness and ore.

Time meant nothing there, three seconds… four… he stayed still specifically, patiently, until the thunder of huge, crippled footsteps announced that he, indeed, was not alone.

So then Omega reared zer head round the corner, and transformed the pit with a dim, tinted light from both eyes, “... You again.” zer voice was almighty and shook the whole of the cavern, rang and ricocheted across every ledge into the mess of unmeasured darkness.

Burton bowed low, purposefully passive, and complaisant. When he stood straight again and lifted his gaze, he saw only the jaws of the Seismosaurus, barely inches above him. And he was no taller than a single sharpened tooth.

“I heard you coming,” Omega rumbled, each joint in zer neck creaking, groaning, countless gun turrets aimed in every direction.

“Pardon, did I disturb you?” Burton asked bluntly, face tilted up still and flooded with the artificial light.

“... No. But what news from the Surface?”

He stopped to take in air, small sips, near-starved for it, “There’s talk of rebuilding the Harbor.” Hands held out, the soil stains on them apparent. “Within the inner circles, at least. And they might extend contracts on various other construction projects.”

The Seismosaurus moaned, pressing at his thoughts now, very weakly, still ample enough, like peeling through a soft-cover book with a scalpel–ze knew the next words before they rolled off his tongue.

“I fear they might restore these roads,” said Burton. “And finish them to the docks. They meant to make storage units down here, you know, right underneath the warehouses- _Must_ you pry into my head?”

Omega made a shrieking noise that seemed to simulate human laughter, both aloud and over the channel ze’d compiled through his mind, mostly uncontrolled and childish. The force of it knocked Burton senseless, caused him to stagger, clutching at the sides of his skull with tight fists.

“It's faster to read your thoughts,” ze roared. “Your kind is inefficient and expendable.”

Burton curled his lip in silence–the Zoid was very young, often insolent, and usually rattling off random questions. Right now ze had settled into place, hunched forward with zer legs steeply bent, the sky-line sized tail swept about in a semi-circle along the inner rim of the chamber. And even in that crumpled position, the plates staggering down along zer back caught against the roof and loosened large bits of rubble that gave way and came parading down. Smashing at an already-battered ground. Burton was quick on his feet and always watching for it now, but Omega kept zer head over his, sufficient shelter, and so wide from cheek to cheek that he could no longer, at this angle, see the edge of either side.

Ze had grown since their last meeting, and the old underpass was no more than a holding cell, littered now with massive plates of sheared and damaged armor. And the joints in zer massive neck moaned when ze brought zer snout lower, fangs a hair’s length away from Burton’s paling face.

“There, there.” He said slowly, frozen in place, wanting desperately to back away. But the Seismos pressed zer chin against his chest and shoved him to the floor, not _quite_ aggressive. Maybe curious.

Burton managed to whisper, snuffing out what he could of his sarcasm, “Feeling better then, I presume?”

“Stronger,” said Omega.

It seemed so. Burton studied what he could of the colossal Zoid, just hints of zer body, an upper-shoulder, cannon barrels, the front of one flank, in the light. The injuries were better–there was less scarring from the impact and ensuing fires where he last remembered them along the thighs and throat.

“I told you not to put so much weight on that leg–” he motioned forward and left. “How is it when you walk?”

“... Improving. It is hard to maneuver down here.” Omega spoke like a bomb going off and the sound was excruciating.

“Yes, well, given the current situation–possible erm- restoration of Emerald Harbor–and your little _growth-spurt_ ,” Burton choked out between gritted teeth, “might I suggest–”

“--Relocating.”

“Mm.” The echo had died down at last and he let go of his breath; the Seismos went on picking at his mind, aimless and lethargic and entirely overwhelming. “I do wish you’d stop doing that.”  
Omega ignored him, “Relocate where?”

“I’m not sure.” A sigh. He’d have to go looking soon. That was, if he could even get the Zoid out of this wretched place without causing a huge fuss–Omega was enormous, perhaps even too big to fit down the tunnels anymore. And then what? Would ze dig zer way out? Could ze even make the trek to another location? How would ze hide zer signal? What if someone else saw zem?

Immediately, his concern was recorded, and the Seismosaurus knew, as Burton did, that ze would certainly be killed if found again–if not cut into pieces and sent into labs for tests and awe and analysis. So ze snarled and lowered zerself into the ground with a half-suppressed might that could topple mountains, frustrated, caged, and still significantly crippled. It was taking zem months to figure out repairs from the data that Lollygag had sent–zer circuitry, the coding, was all different, translating it was tedious. And Omega even less experienced than the Lord Gale.

Burton’s head and heart were pounding from the pressure and lack of oxygen, the persistence of the Seismos as ze hammered and scraped in his mind, but he got to his feet eventually. “You should focus on fixing your Core first,” he suggested. “Then the rest of the repairs will run smoother.”

Omega hummed on in reply and the stone around them trembled in the dark. Ze drew back, shoulders, neck and head, in choppy segments, an ocean of strangely shaped metal. “Let me lie, then.”  
“We’ll be in touch,” said Burton, softly, and started back toward the surface, both hands bare and steering him up along the wall.

And it was two days after that he could sneak out into Erca Forest, where he often went to speculate and count leaves and trails and stars. Lollygag was right beside him and thankful for clouds to admire, then their reflections framed on little stream banks where they stopped and stared and found comfort in singing to each other. The water was clear and cold, frost nipping at the ground, approaching steadily. Burton would look up from his logbook now and then and set his sights on the horizon where far, far away near the Harbor, Omega stayed buried in the passage below.

A chill came down his spine, hair swept back, earth under his nails, trying to recall somewhere safe to conceal a gigantic, wounded god.

Lollygag nuzzled him gently and blocked out the winter breeze with his wings. “What if we look from over there?” He bobbed his head up and down, pointed with his snout to the nearest mountain peak.  
“Very well,” Burton stepped away from the brook and pulled his jacket about himself. They’d need to find a close hideaway–albeit large enough to accommodate something of Omega’s size, and that was proving difficult. And so while he tucked away his logbook and began the climb into the Gale’s cockpit, he was ready to consider all possibilities, to the west, and the north, ridge-lines, desert, spreading sea… The now-dropping temperature was the least of his problems.

They made it over the tree tops and hovered there for a while, for Burton was a bit slow on the controls, still thinking critically, and so Lollygag took it upon himself to ascend, higher, faster as they gained altitude. And the world shrunk beneath them and the wind snapped and pulled with all the power of a coastal tide.

Then the Lord Gale banked sharply and settled down on the cliff side, with a view of Blue City embedded between lengths of familiar landscape. Clouds rolling in that seemed they were about to burst, crowding around the sun. This was the territory they’d come to know, where they’d roamed the streets and fought battles and shared secrets with themselves, screamed and smiled and slept and survived.

In dead silence, Burton reached for his binoculars and adjusted the dials, covering up his tired, grey eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on December 9, 2014 to [my RP blog.](http://obsidianonslaught.tumblr.com/post/104787195833/errands-for-gods)


End file.
